8
Arjen
After exiting her cousin’s hospital room, Mecca pulled a nurse off to the side. I assumed it was to seek her help in keeping a close eye on her cousin. Hearing her speak Spanish so fluidly caused me to stare at her interactions with the nurse.
Humm. This was an interesting revelation that caused a smile to find its way to my lips. She was smooth. I gave her that. A gentle touch, a big friendly smile, and an inviting posture were what she gave off.
The few words I understood weren’t enough to clue me in on what she was so intensely discussing with the nurse. However, speaking the woman’s language and engaging with her in a humbling manner would no doubt win her whatever favor she was asking of her.
If there was one thing I had, it was a keen eye for trouble, and my new wife was a walking supermarket of every brand of trouble you desired. She could be cool and caring, loving and adoring, but pinch the wrong nerve, and I was sure she would set your world on fire.
Even though I was eyeing her with the most precise observation, I had missed a few details. Another bruise. When she moved, one peeked from the small portion of her shoulder that was exposed. What was happening that left her bruised? Would she tell me if I asked?
By the time she ended her conversation, I had come to an unsettling conclusion: I liked my wife, and I was more than likely going to end up killing someone over her. She strutted back in my direction after she gave the nurse a quick hug, already converting her to a friendly ally.
“Ready?” she asked me, decreasing her pace long enough to make eye contact before continuing her march towards the elevators.
Ignoring her question, I proceeded with one of my own.
“What were you discussing with the nurse?”
“A way to keep my cousin from getting his hands on drugs. It doesn’t matter that he’s near death. When and if he regains enough strength, he will use. Desiree and I have tried everything accept locking him away against his will, but it is something that I’m strongly considering.”
I didn’t comment because I would have locked him away long before now.
“You have a large bruise on your arm, and I noticed another on the back of your shoulder. Is everything okay? Do you need my help with anything?”
Genuinely concerned, her well-being was my number one priority.
“Everything is fine. Horseplay with the men at the job. They tend to forget that I’m a woman, although the tits and ass should be a clear sign.”
Indeed, those were two of her best assets. But, I didn’t believe her disarming excuse for one second. She was hiding something, and I was determined to find out what that something was.
On our way to the car, I couldn’t tell if the hand I placed in her lower back bothered her or if she’d not been used to anyone touching her there.
“You speak Spanish?” Did she know that she had fully captured my interest?
After assisting her into the car, she slid across the seat so that I could climb in after her. I assumed she had ignored my question until she started talking.
“I don’t remember much before my uncle took me in as a kid, but hearing, and speaking Spanish was natural for me. When the teachers saw how easily I communicated with other Spanish-speaking children, the school asked my uncle where I had learned the language. He claimed he had taken me in right before I turned four, said my father, his brother spoke it, so I must have picked it up from him.”
A sarcastic chuckle escaped, and she shrugged off the irritation from the mention of her uncle.
“I believe my uncle was feeding me a weak lie. Once in a while, I’ll have flashes of people I think I interacted with before he took me in. I think I was in foster care, but my subconscious won’t allow me to see full pictures or piece together concise patterns of those thoughts.”
Learning about Mecca was interesting, and I wanted the conversation to continue, but too soon, the car began to decelerate. We were already back at the house.
Her dominating presence suggested she had gotten used to playing the male role in life and her relationships. However, she hadn’t commented on my apparent inability to keep my hands off her.
She was fully capable of walking from the car to the front door without my assistance, but it wasn’t every day I got married, or found a woman I was interested in outside of a bedroom. There was no use in me lying to myself about it, I enjoyed all those warm and lush places she possessed. What was even more confusing was that I genuinely enjoyed her company.
“Are you hungry? The cook can make you whatever you want.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m still stuffed from all the overpriced food from the reception.”
The guard who had stopped in the living room where he would post up for the night drew her attention for a moment. My hand remained on her back as I guided her through the living room, up the stairs, and along the short expanse of the hall to the master bedroom.
After I pushed the bedroom door open, I waited until she entered first. The automatic lights snapped on with her first few steps. When I followed her in, she came to an abrupt stop and glanced back.